Debt
by Athiya
Summary: Post Ptolemy's Gate; Nathaniel's perspective  in third-person narratives, though . Started off right when he was dying.
1. Nathaniel

**AN: I've just finished reading Ptolemy's Gate and I felt like there's still something that needed to be written (even though the ending was absolutely amazing and Jonathan Stroud is a great writer). I started with Nathaniel's point of view, obviously, since Stroud had provided us with Bartimaeus and Kitty's thought at the end. It came off good-ish, but then I just couldn't stop. I started to wonder, 'What if Nathaniel met Ptolemy in the after life?', and I turned that thought into this piece. Chapter two is done, but I figured I'll publish it sometimes this week, if possible. Enjoy! :)**

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At first, he saw Nouda screaming. Well, that was obvious. The full power of Gladstone's Staff was released and the building above him came rushing down. The creature must be in pain. Then, Nathaniel started to notice that he was no longer standing, but kneeling on the ground, weak and helpless. Yes, he had thought of that too: with Bartimaeus gone, he'd have no energy at all. He wondered whether he would die out of exhaustion or because of the power of the Staff, or perhaps, due to the Glass Palace crushing in on him. He hoped it was the first; it would be easier and less painful that way.

Unfortunately, he was still breathing when Nouda was down. It looked like a slow-motion movie to him; the iron and glass coming down to the hideous monster under it, entwining him, not letting him escape despite all the pleading and cries. Nathaniel wished the noise would stop. He was in so much pain already, with his side injured and his whole energy used. Regardless of his silent pleas, Nouda kept screaming. He closed his eyes and felt the building collapsing, chunks and bits of it falling to his side.

A rather large piece of glass fell on top of him.

It was unbearable pain. He shrieked for help, yet he knew no one would come. In a fraction of seconds, he wished he hadn't dismissed Bartimaeus, just because he'd have company. In another fraction, he thought of Kitty, and how safe she was, despite all the chaos and blinding lights. The thought made him feel better. At least she was all right. Maybe, when this was all over, she could forgive him.

Suddenly, the pain stop. Everything was still black, but the weight of the building had escaped him. In fact, he felt much lighter than ever. He tried to stir, but he wasn't even sure that he _had_ a body. He couldn't feel anything; not his limbs, not his torso, not even his heartbeat. By this time, though, he'd found out what happened. He was dead, as he knew he would.

Nathaniel supposed it could went worse. He could have died in a slow, painful death, or––even the thought disgusted him––as one of the demons' host. At least he had his body to himself, even if it was so broken and bloody. Besides, it was a noble death; he had saved Kitty and Bartimaeus and numerous other people when he died. Surely that counted for something. He wondered whether his last act of heroism would pay for all the mistakes he made. For being John Mandrake. For lying and deceiving his people. For turning into the magician he once loathed.

Nathaniel was at ease. The peace, the solitude; they were all what he needed. The blackness slowly turned to a bright light. He felt he had a body again, but his clothes were not the ones he was wearing when he shot Nouda. Nathaniel was a child again; the same one who had sketched pentacles with Ms Lutyens in his old master's home, who had fearfully summoned Bartimaeus for the first time, who had saved most of the government when he defeated Ramuthra.

_Come_, a voice appeared out of no where. It was both beautiful and terrifying, and Nathaniel couldn't say if it was a man or a woman's.

_Where, though?_ Nathaniel thought desperately.

No one answered for a while. Then, there was a door. Reluctantly, he walked to it with extreme caution, though he knew the feeling was really unnecessary; he was, after all, dead and gone. The door opened when he touched the handle. Nathaniel shrugged. Might as well go. He didn't have something better to do anyway. He was scared, of course, but he guessed it would not do to linger here for long. He needed to go to the land of the dead, where everyone he killed––Mr and Mrs Underwood, Simon Lovelace, and who knows who else?––were waiting.

The second he walked through the door though, he saw Bartimaeus.

But that wasn't right. Bartimaeus was alive; he had dismissed him at the right moment. Then, he realized, this wasn't _really _Bartimaeus. It was always how Bartimaeus looked like when he was not a beast, but this was the real Egyptian boy, not the guise he used. This was Ptolemy of Alexandria himself.


	2. Ptolemy of Alexandria

**AN: I decided to just published this story now :p Enjoy! :)

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Ptolemy was smiling. Nathaniel smiled back shyly, unable to come up with something to say. He was, after all, in the body of a twelve years old, and he knew that his mind had not been the mature John Mandrake's. As Mandrake, he had the authority, the power, the sophisticated charm to speak. But he was Nathaniel now, and––though it was strange to say––he preferred it this way.

'Hello.' Ptolemy started the conversation, much to Nathaniel's surprise. His voice was kind and soft, yet it reflected his intelligence; it was like talking to your kindergarten teacher when you can barely spell your alphabet. He also noticed that Ptolemy was neither speaking English nor Ancient Greek. He wasn't even sure whether he himself knew any language at all.

'Hello,' Nathaniel replied dumbly, with a strained, childlike voice.

Again, Ptolemy smiled, and Nathaniel noted that he was very good looking. Ivory skinned and dark haired, his features was a perfect Egyptian model. Ptolemy's eyes were very different from Bartimaeus' form, though. Nathaniel could spot the alienness in Bartimaeus' guise, but the real Ptolemy had a pair of calm, soothing ones. He guessed that Ptolemy was about fourteen years old, as he was a bit taller than him.

'I've heard of you,' said Nathaniel, when Ptolemy decided to remain silent. 'My dem––djinni, Bartimaeus, think very highly of you. You're Ptolemy of Alexandria, right?' he added, though he himself was sure there could be no one else.

'Yes,' said Ptolemy. 'I was his master a long, long time ago. It had been a while. I'm glad he still preserves his memory of me.'

Nathaniel nodded, but didn't say anything. As much as Ptolemy real self interested him, his mind still wondered to what would happen next. He was dead, that much he understood. Why had Ptolemy came, though, he did not understand.

Reluctantly, he asked, 'What happens now?'

'Nothing,' answered Ptolemy brightly.

'Nothing?' Nathaniel repeated.

'Nothing,' Ptolemy echoed.

'But,' said Nathaniel, frowning, 'what are we supposed to do for the next few centuries or so? What did _you_ do all these times? It's not like you welcome every dead person coming, did you?'

Ptolemy shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'There were things to do, naturally. Now is not the time, though.'

'So what do we do now?'

'Let us talk.'

And so they did. Ptolemy asked Nathaniel who he was, and he answered, not with a straightforward and short introduction, but with his whole life story. He had no idea why he did, but from the moment he had introduced himself as Nathaniel, he had the urge to tell him how he was not known as Nathaniel to most people. He told him about his career as John Mandrake and how he resented it, and one thing led to another until he told him almost everything that had happened in his life; about Kitty and the Resistance; about Mr and Mrs Underwood and their terrible, terrible death; and finally, he told him about Bartimaeus and their many adventures together.

' ... arrogant and self-centered, with little humility, he was. Absolutely noisy too! When he was in my body––'

'Excuse me?'

Nathaniel nodded. 'Yes,' he said, rather quietly. 'There was these dem––spirits, who sought over to rule the Empire using the magicians' bodies. Both Bartimaeus and me were very tired, so Kitty––I told you about her––suggested that he went to my body so that his essence would be protected and I'd have some of his energy. We planned to defeat the spirits with Gladstone's Staff (a very powerful Staff, that is), and it worked ... most of the time.'

'Most of the time?'

'The leader, Nouda, absorbed all of its' energy. So I came up with a different plan; to use the uncontrollable power of the Staff and the iron in the Glass Palace to destroy him. We succeed, but unfortunately, as you may have guessed, I didn't survive.' He spoke it calmly with no bitterness in his voice, for he knew that at least his death was not really useless. Nobody would grieve for him, anyway, as he had done for Mrs Underwood.

'And Bartimaeus? What of him?' asked Ptolemy. He did not show any rashness nor worry; this, Nathaniel thought, was because death was not a big matter to Ptolemy anymore.

'I dismissed him right before Nouda and I were killed.'

'Why?'

Nathaniel didn't answer right away, as he himself was rather unsure of the cause of Bartimaeus' dismissal. He didn't need to dismiss Bartimaeus at all then, but he still did. Why? That was a logical question; Bartimaeus was a demon, who had managed to stir up quite a number of troubles for Nathaniel. He had been rude to him, not to mention careless and cocky, and yet, Nathaniel had saved his life still, despite his better judgement.

'I don't know,' Nathaniel said finally.

'That was very noble of you,' said Ptolemy.

'I suppose so.'

'And I'm sure Rekhyt is grateful.'

'I should hope he is.'

'I had done the same thing for him too, you know.'

At this, Nathaniel looked straight to Ptolemy's face, surprised. All he'd known about Ptolemy was that he had managed to come to the Other Place with Bartimaeus, and he always thought that that was why Bartimaeus respected him so much. He never knew if there was some other reason for the djinni to look up to Ptolemy.

'Yes,' Ptolemy said, 'I was about to die anyway, but he needn't to. My cousin had sent many djinn after me, and my other djinn were already murdered. Rekhyt was the only one left who hadn't perished by their attack, and he decided to protect me until the very end. I couldn't have that of course; he was much too valuable to die for someone like me. I had no regret,' he paused, then took a moment to study Nathaniel's face. Nathaniel had a feeling that Ptolemy was judging him. 'Only,' he continued, 'my study was scattered about the market, and I very much doubt it had been brought back. Only bits and pieces of my work was left in my room.'

'I'm sorry,' said Nathaniel. 'Many people had read your Apocrypha, though. I did, and Kitty had come to the Other Place herself. She'd came back frail and old, but she'll manage.'

'_Really_?'

'Oh, yes,' said Nathaniel, glad that he could somewhat cheer the Egyptian boy. 'Yes, she did. She'd talk to Bartimaeus about him sharing my body so that his essence would be protected. At first I thought she was dead; her body was limp and cold and she wasn't breathing. Then, some times later, she woke up, unable to use her limbs. She worked it out in the end, though.'

'I see ...' Ptolemy nodded, and Nathaniel could feel the boy's searching his face again. 'So, about this, um, combined body of yours ... how did you do that?'

'Oh, that was easy,' said Nathaniel. 'I'd watched one of the conspirators insert a djinni to a commoner before I did it myself, and it only took a couple of improvisation. Of course, I had summoned Bartimaeus first, so we had to draw another pentacle with me in it. To make the summoning faster, we'd smudged the chalk a little and then––what?'

Ptolemy was chuckling. 'Oh, nothing,' he said gleefully. 'Perhaps time changed, my friend, but in my days it was unadvisable for a magician to even touch the pentacle's chalk for fear that it would be ruined and the spirits would devour them.'

'Oh.' _Of course_! How could Nathaniel be so stupid? Ptolemy would probably think that he was a reckless, immature magician now. Well, what did it matter? They were both dead anyway, and come to think of it, Bartimaeus hadn't eaten him as well, so his argument meant nothing.

'You must think I'm a fool,' said Nathaniel bitterly, and he could feel his childish frustration coming to him now.

'On the contrary,' said Ptolemy, 'I think you're a remarkable magician. You and your friend Kitty are both exceptionally brilliant.'

'You do?'

'Yes,' Ptolemy replied. 'Both of you trusted Bartimaeus, regardless of what you feel to his kind, and he, as I expected, returned the favor. He had responded to Kitty's call when she was in Other Place, and hadn't harm nor destroy you both when you smudged the chalk. I daresay he could easily destroy your mind when he was inside you, but he didn't––'

'He needed a way out to the Other Place––'

'Even so.'

There was a pause, in which Nathaniel thought about what Ptolemy said. Bartimaeus had trusted Kitty and him, and he himself had not been aware that he had done the same thing as well. To trust a wretched demon ... the very thought of it was despicable! Hadn't Bartimaeus lied to him about Kitty being dead? He supposed it was for Kitty's protection, but still ... The image of the girl preserved in Bartimaeus' form had haunted him for years. In any case, Bartimaeus had had no reason to trust him anyway. Kitty, maybe; he didn't know what happened to the pair of them when he was not there after all. But to Nathaniel? Never! The demon had continuously sneered and teased him, while he, in return, had also hurt him by his persistence in keeping Bartimaeus on earth for a long time.

'I wasn't exactly what you call a kind master,' Nathaniel said, a bit shamefully. He stood in front of Ptolemy, whom Bartimaeus thought to be the best master, while he had purposely made the djinni faced mortal death on more than one occasion. Sure, he'd dismissed him at the last moment, but he was sure no djinn would want to stay on earth for two long years, gluing posters and handling trivial things like managing decoration. He had make a fool out of Bartimaeus of Uruk himself, N'gorso the Mighty, Sakhr al-Jinni––

'Nor do I, much,' Ptolemy said.

'What?'

'I'm not really kind to my djinn too,' Ptolemy shook his head. 'Yes, I'd managed to murdered most of them with my recklessness. You see, if I had been careful in avoiding magic, my cousin would not suspect me. He'd leave me be in peace. Yet I need to help my people; their problems were curable by minor imps and foliots, so how could I refuse? I cannot. When my cousin pursued me, I kept my life at risk by refusing to leave Alexandria, my home. It was filled with so many books and precious documents, you see. I needed them for my research,' he sighed. 'Then my cousin made contacts with the Roman magicians. They sent a number of powerful djinn; mine were just not strong enough. They all died.'

'Bartimaeus live.'

'He did,' Ptolemy smiled. 'I favored him out of all my djinn. He was an interesting character; cheeky and witty, yet obedient and valued conscience. We have some things in common there, it seems.'

'_We_?' Nathaniel raised his eyebrows.

'Yes, you and I,' said Ptolemy, as though that part was as obvious as daylight. 'We both liked him dearly; we both trusted him with all our hearts; we both, as you have mentioned before, was known to him by our birth names. I'm sure he hadn't told a single soul about your names, though.'

'He hadn't. I'd be dead quicker than this if he had,' Nathaniel said, grinning. 'Speaking of which, are we supposed to talk to our djinn's previous master when we died? I don't see any logic in this.'

'Actually,' said Ptolemy, 'I was sent here to remind you of something. I'm sorry if this had been quite a conversation, but it had been fun. I'm glad you caught up at last.'

'Caught up with what?'

'Bartimaeus and Kitty. You owed them a lot, but you somewhat payed them back today.'

'By saving their sorry butt and let myself died instead?'

'Something along that line, yes,' Ptolemy nodded, then his gaze became serious and grave. 'You need to remember, Nathaniel, the last memory you had of them. Remember hard. You still need to make a payment to both Bartimaeus and Kitty. You owed it to them.'

Nathaniel closed his eyes and thought. He thought of Kitty first, and how weak and vulnerable she looked. The lines and white hair had scared him, and yet she was still beautiful in his eyes; her aura had shone like the sun when he had first seen him with Bartimaeus inside him. Nathaniel remembered the brief conversation he had with her before the play. How long had that seemed to be. He recalled how thrilling and exciting it was to talk to her, to see her eyes lit up and her thin, peachy mouth contradicting everything he said. It was both refreshing and pleasant, being with Kitty.

Then his mind wondered to when he knew he was about to die. He had read the djinni's thought; the awful wound he had on his side just wouldn't do. He would die out of blood loss if not because of Nouda. Nathaniel had given the Amulet of Samarkand to protect Kitty, for he knew there was no good of it. What was the excuse he'd given? _The Amulet's too powerful a charm ... _Yes, that's it. Bartimaeus had helped him with that one. He'd seen Kitty reluctant face, and how she was unsure about it.

Then he remembered.

He had promised Kitty he would see her outside. He was unable to fulfill that promise, like the time when he betrayed Kitty's trust and tried to locked her up. Shame filled his inside again; he needed to see Kitty to keep his promise.

'Ptolemy––'

'Think again,' Ptolemy said; his voice firm. 'Think of Bartimaeus first, then you may seek my advice.'

It was weird to see a stranger being in charge and ordered him about, but he knew better than to refuse. Again, he closed his eyes and thought.

Bartimaeus. He skipped the part where he ignored the djinni's plea to dismiss him; the one where he was reduced to a pyramid of slime; and the many ill-treatment he'd given his slave. The last thing he'd done and said ... He remembered telling him that he was a good servant ... He remembered that Bartimaeus had given him some kind of compliment as well ... That was not important, though; what else had the djinni thought? Right after he thought he would dismiss him, Bartimaeus had wanted to say something. Nathaniel cut in, before Bartimaeus had finished, and sent his last message to him: _'Say hello to Kitty for me.'_

Bartimaeus had went after that. He remembered Nouda and the Glass Palace, but the djinni had escaped to the Other Place, hadn't he? The thought frustrated Nathaniel. He should never had cut in to what Bartimaeus had to say! It would haunt him forever. He tried to concentrate; to guess and painfully recalled what had happened in that fraction of moment.

'_Nathaniel––'_

'_Say hello to Kitty for me.'_

'––_you're a good master––no, a good person. Don't forget that.'_

He remembered now. Before the djinni went flying away to the Other Place, he had given him his last thought of him, and an advice too. It made him feel better about himself, and he silently thanked Bartimaeus for that. He was relieved he had spared Bartimaeus' life; it was the least he could do to even the numbers.

'I remembered,' said Nathaniel.

'Good,' said Ptolemy. 'Do you know what you need to do?'

'I––no, I don't––I mean, I can't come back from the dead, can I? Magicians can't practice Necromancy and immortal liquids were forbidden. I––'

'What _did_ you remember anyway?'

'I made a promise to Kitty ... to see her outside the Glass Palace. I can't afford to break another promise; I'd broken one before and it's fatal. Please ... I need to see her one more time. Please. I just need her to know I'm fine.'

'But you're not fine,' said Ptolemy. 'You've passed away. Forget about Kitty for a while and tell me what you remember about Bartimaeus.'

'He told me I was a good master and a good person,' said Nathaniel dully. 'He said I shouldn't forget that. That was it.'

'That was rather straightforward of him,' Ptolemy grinned. 'So that leaves you with Kitty. This is rather difficult, I must admit, but not impossible. You can't come back from the dead, yes; but you can, however, used elements as your messenger. Perhaps you ought to whisper something to the wind and let it pass your voice to Kitty's ear?'

'You can do that?'

'Why not?' Ptolemy waved his hand to the clear surface below him. A small whirlwind appeared, rounding up on him. 'We are magicians after all, and one of a kind too. Here, say something to this.'

Nathaniel looked at the whirlwind doubtfully. He took a breath and said, 'I'm here.'

He couldn't think of anything else to say. He would love to talk to Kitty directly, told her how sorry he was, how his actions were utterly wrong, how she had changed his life ... Unfortunately, he knew it was impossible. Kitty just had to live without knowing his true feelings for her. Nathaniel wasn't even sure if she would feel sorry for him, anyway. Chances were she would run away and never turned back. Kitty had known him as this evil, unjust magician called John Mandrake. He hadn't know Nathaniel, and certainly hadn't seen what she did to him.

The whirlwind was preparing to go, and Nathaniel let out a small, 'Wait,' to call it back. 'Another thing, please,' he said to Ptolemy, and when the boy nodded, he turned his head to the spinning wind. 'Thank you. Thank you for everything. I'm sorry I've caused you so much trouble. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise. Thank you.'

'You said thank you twice,' said Ptolemy, though his tone was more satisfied than curious.

'Yes,' said Nathaniel, watching the wind went off. 'She'd done a lot to me. I'd say the same thing to Bartimaeus, except he probably knew anyway. We were, after all, "one and the same" in the end.'

Both boys smiled at each other. It was time for them to depart, to whatever was waiting for them on the other side. Nathaniel had realized that his conversation with Ptolemy was simply to remind him of his debt, of how he need to be grateful to both Kitty and Bartimaeus even in the after life. He had learn a great deal about Ptolemy as well, which he guessed was to understand better why Bartimaeus had loved Ptolemy.

He and Ptolemy strolled down, and were gone a moment later. Their time was pass.


	3. Kitty

**AN: Last chapter! :p I was about to make a fourth chapter about Bartimaeus, but I don't know. Maybe if I got enough inspiration I will. What do you think? Should I publish a new chapter? Enjoy this one anyway! :)

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'_I'm here ...'_

What was that? Kitty heard something among the burned bushes and trees ... A voice, but it couldn't be. There was no one there and she was sure she was alone. No other human beings had dared to come close to this scene of the crime; either from fear of the hybrid demons that might survive or from the Night Police and the Surveillance Spheres.

Kitty was a good distance away from the ruin of the Glass Palace by now, conscious that grieving over Nathaniel and Bartimaeus wouldn't help anything. She had to be strong, just like when she lost her friends three years ago. He only knew Nathaniel for no longer than a day, so it was only logical if she hadn't felt anything at all when he died. Yet ... her heart ache so much she would very much wanted to cry. She knew that wasn't the smart thing to do; crying wasted time and energy, and she was still tired from what had happened two days ago. She needed to rest.

'_I'm here ...'_

That voice again! It sounded familiarly like Nathaniel's, only Kitty knew that that was just impossible. Nathaniel was dead, gone, perished and should be forgotten. Hearing voices of him would just made the ache on Kitty's chest even more painful. She should ignore these delusion right away.

'_Thank you.'_

Kitty knew she was not imagining things then. It _was_ Nathaniel's voice, and it had said thank you to her. Could it be ...?

Kitty looked back to the Glass Palace. Nothing changed, nothing stirred. All was still and the same. The idea of Nathaniel surviving such fatal damage from both the glass ruin and the Staff was ridiculous. Why had she even thought of that ludicrous idea? But the voice ... The voice was real; she knew it was. Maybe it was some kind of illusion brought by the magician. It's a possibility: Nathaniel was very clever and never ran out of wits.

'Nathaniel?' Kitty whispered to the empty air.

'_Thank you,'_ it said again, in that unmistakable voice of Nathaniel's._ 'Thank you for everything. I'm sorry I've caused you so much trouble. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise ...'_ it linger for a while, repeating the word, _'promise ...'_ three times, ignoring Kitty's beating heart and her gasp of shock.

'_Thank you,'_ it said again, only at the end, it dissolved into thin air, leaving Kitty staring in awe.

When it left, Kitty cried.


End file.
